


guaranteed, i can blow your mind (mwah)

by cathect



Category: IT (2017), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, a bit of dirty talk, lowkey exhibitionism?, obscene popsicle eating, semi-public blowjobs, somehow i managed to make this shit fluffy smh, will byers is a big ol' tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14257233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathect/pseuds/cathect
Summary: -Will is trying to torture Richie.-or, the one where richie gets a boner from watching will eat a popsicle.





	guaranteed, i can blow your mind (mwah)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wizardingtributeofhades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardingtributeofhades/gifts).



> a few notes about this fic  
> \- this was an anonymous tumblr request: "Hey I love your writing! Can you do a Ryers thing where Richie is obsessing over Will eating a popsicle and he has to hide his boner or something?”  
> \- this was my first time writing a blowjob so be gentle please!!!  
> \- the boys are of course aged-up. i use the term "semester" in there to hint at the fact that they're supposed to be college-age. i imagined them as about 20/21.  
> \- this is a gift for bobby, my wheelzier partner in crime.
> 
> A HUGE THANK YOU TO ERIN, without whom this fic would be terrible. she can be attributed to a good majority of the better parts of that damn blowjob scene. go check her work out @punk-rock-yuppie on tumblr or punk_rock_yuppie here on ao3!

Will is trying to torture Richie.  
  
There’s really no other explanation for what he’s doing right now, eating a fucking popsicle like that. Not a single fucking thing that can excuse the way his cherry-stained lips are sliding down on it: taking an obnoxious amount of it into his mouth before dragging it back out.  
  
Will holds it out in front of him, looks at it for a moment, and then licks at the side where part of it is melting down towards his hand. His tongue traces up to the top, and he pauses to swallow before he slides it in his mouth again.  
  
Richie tries. He tries so fucking hard to look away. But his eyes are glued to Will with no chance of coming unstuck on their own. Not when Will is hollowing out his cheeks to suck some juice from the popsicle. Not when his lips are so _wet_ and so _red_ when he pulls it out again.  
  
“Right, Rich?”  
  
Someone smacks his shoulder and yanks Richie back into reality. Richie blinks a few times, first at an expectant-looking Lucas Sinclair, then shifting his gaze to the rest of his friends. Everyone is clearly waiting for Richie to say something, so he clears his throat.  
  
“I— uh.” He stops and shakes his head to shake away his thoughts. There’s no way he can even pretend to know what Lucas is asking about, but he can’t ask Lucas to repeat himself either. Then someone will ask why Richie wasn’t paying attention, and he has no idea how he would answer. “Yep. Right.” He declares it with a confidence in his voice he doesn’t really feel, and shares a nod with Lucas.

“Fuckin’ bull _shit_ —”

Richie doesn’t know who’s disagreeing with him, and doesn’t hear any of the rest of the conversation, because he’s done his part and now he can focus back in on Will.  
  
Will, who’s still eating that fucking popsicle.  
  
He’s sitting on the big loveseat, squished in next to Wheeler, with his sketchbook open in his lap. Richie has yet to see a time when Will hasn’t had that sketchbook open and ready; his pen is always poised to turn the thoughts in his head to a reality on paper.

Not that Richie’s really looking at anything but Will’s mouth right now.  
  
Will Byers is the only person that Richie has ever seen eat a popsicle like this. By now, any normal person would have taken a bite out of it, but Will is still licking at it with these deliberate strokes that are downright obscene. Like one of Richie’s more tame wet dreams come to fucking life right in front of him.  
  
Richie is losing his goddamn mind.  
  
Will’s eyebrows scrunch together as he twists his wrist, only to raise in surprise when he sees two drops of melted popsicle making their way down the back of his hand. Before they can drip onto his sketchbook, he sucks them off of his hand and makes a small noise of victory.  
  
(It sounds like a moan to Richie, soft and sighing and sweet… but that could be due to how hard it’s getting— pun intended— to repress his fucking boner. He tugs his hoodie into his lap, hoping to hide any possible evidence.)  
  
“You good?” Wheeler asks with a nudge to Will’s side. Will looks up and over at him, the popsicle resting on his bottom lip for a moment.  
  
“Yeah, I’m good.” He gestures to his lap with a jut of his chin. “Almost dripped.”  
  
The exchange is like a punch to the face. It reminds Richie that they’re crowded in the Denbrough basement with all of their friends— meaning _eleven_ other people.

Eleven other people that don’t know that Will spends most nights of the week pinned under Richie, whining and sobbing and begging for more.  
  
They don’t know that Richie and Will started fucking last semester, when Will asked Richie to take his virginity. They don’t know that Will didn’t want to stop there, when the first time had been too fucking good for it to be a one-time thing. They don’t know that Richie has slowly unlocked every single, delicious sound that Will is capable of making, filing it away in his brain like he’s learning a new language. They don’t know that right now Will’s thighs are covered in dark purple hickeys that Richie put there last night.  
  
But most importantly, or maybe just most relevantly, they don’t know that Will Byers gives the best head Richie’s ever gotten in his fucking life. _That’s_ what’s made the last five minutes a living Hell.  
  
He can perfectly picture Will on his knees, sucking Richie off like it’s the only thing he wants to do. The way he moans around Richie’s dick every time Richie pulls his hair or praises him. The way he always keeps eye contact, looking up at Richie with that sweet and innocent gaze despite the cock disappearing between his lips.  
  
And, yep, that’s _not_ helping him in the hiding-his-erection department.  
  
Neither is the way that Will is watching him, catching Richie’s gaze when he looks up at Will again. Will’s got a smirk on his lips, and it’s stretched around the popsicle as he slides it almost entirely into his mouth.

Richie’s known from the start that all of Will’s actions have been completely purposeful, each and every suck and swallow designed to get a rise out of him. And _fuck_ if it didn’t work.  
  
Richie clears his throat and stands up, making sure to let his hoodie drape over his traitorous crotch. “I’m going to go grab a beer,” he says, interrupting the others’ conversation. “Anyone want anything?”  
  
There are murmurs of “no” all around, except Max who says, “Yeah, grab me one.” Richie nods and makes his way up the stairs and into Bill’s kitchen. It’s more of a waddle really, his stride awkwardly bow-legged as he pretends his cock isn’t heavy against the zipper of his jeans.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispers once he’s leaning against the counter. He curls his hands around the aged marble countertop, and tries to ignore the fact that he’s definitely hard now. He swallows and closes his eyes, trying to pretend that he has some semblance of control over his body, that he’s not just some horny teenager.  
  
He jumps when he hears the basement door close again a minute later, and turns around to face the counter. He presses his hips against the cabinets, mentally apologizing to Bill and his parents for the way it eases some of the ache.  
  
“Richie?”  
  
Richie’s eyes snap open at the sound of Will’s voice, and he faces him slowly. Will’s got the barren popsicle stick in his hand, his lips stained with the evidence of his treat, and his eyes are wide and innocent. But Richie knows better.  
  
“You,” Richie whispers, surging forward and pushing Will against the stove. Will blinks up at him, still maintaining his innocent act. Even when his lips twitch up, the rest of his expression is open and guileless; he’s damn good at playing pure in a way that Richie finds infuriatingly sexy.  
  
“Me?” Will questions, though he puts a little more attitude into it. Richie shakes his head and brings their hips together. Will gasps softly as their bodies align, seamlessly as their lips, “Richie—“  
  
“You feel that?” Richie asks, leaning down to speak in Will’s ear. He pushes his hips forward a bit and shudders at the relief of his cock against Will’s hip. “That’s what all your teasing did to me, baby. Now, how’s that fair?”  
  
“Who said I was trying to be fair?” Will bites back.  
  
Richie desperately wishes he didn’t find his sudden attitude so attractive, but he feels another rush of arousal flood through his body as he grabs Will’s chin. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough so he can’t shy away from Richie’s words.  
  
“Oh, you are going to get it so bad when we’re alone,” Richie says, nipping at Will’s earlobe lightly. He feels Will’s jaw clench a little under his fingers and he grins. “So fucking bad.”  
  
Will sighs softly and clutches onto Richie’s shirt. “We’re alone right now,” he says, plain and sure and so genuine, Richie almost balks.  
  
Despite the determination glinting in Will’s eyes, Richie lets go of his chin, throwing a reflexive glance to the basement door. Will’s always been secretive when it comes to their relationship; the suggestive tone in his voice is surprising, but no less thrilling.  
  
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Will,” Richie says, eyes set and serious. Will quirks an eyebrow and without hesitation, slips a hand between them to palm Richie’s cock over his jeans.  
  
“I’m not.” His eye contact never falters, even as Richie’s eyelids flutter a little. Richie’s hips buck into Will’s touch as he braces a hand on the stove behind him.  
  
When Richie meets Will’s eyes again, they’re still so wide and so fucking beautiful and Richie can’t help himself— he drags him in for a kiss. Will hums happily and drops his mouth open for Richie to lick inside. Richie moans at the taste of artificial cherry, and sucks on Will’s bottom lip. Will squeezes Richie’s cock in response and Richie breaks away to moan again, louder this time.  
  
“Baby,” he hisses. The other boy smiles and pushes on his chest a little. Richie’s forced to take a couple of steps back, giving Will enough room to sink to his knees on the kitchen floor. “Jesus Christ, Will.”  
  
“Hmm?” Will asks as he works on Richie’s belt. He unbuckles it and tugs it loose enough to hang around Richie’s hips, then sets his sights on the zipper and button. Richie can barely string two words together and, by the time he thinks to ask Will if he’s sure, Will is dragging his tongue up the length of his dick, grabbing onto the base with one hand for leverage. The waistband of Richie’s boxers is tucked under his balls and with a mischievous glance up, Will snaps the elastic against Richie’s thigh.  
  
“Holy fuck,” Richie whispers, the sting barely registering in his hazy mind as he watches red-stained lips work over his skin. He drags his hand away from the stove and slips it into Will’s hair. He tugs gently when Will sucks on the head of his cock, and Will hums appreciatively as his eyes flutter shut.  
  
Will blows Richie with enthusiasm, same as he always does, just like Richie knew he would. Will sighs and whines and moans around the girth between his lips like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than on his knees in Bill’s kitchen with Richie’s dick halfway down his throat. The sight alone— Will’s knees pressed into the tile, his fingers wrapped around the base of Richie’s shaft, his lips flushed red from sucking cock instead of that stupid fucking popsicle— has Richie biting into the back of his hand to keep from whining.  
  
“You’re so beautiful,” Richie says when he can manage it. His gasping breath sounds insanely loud to his own ears. Too loud, probably; it’s drowned out only by the sloppy, wet symphony of Will’s mouth around him. “So pretty with my cock in your mouth, Will.” Richie combs his fingers through Will’s hair affectionately, sweetly.  
  
Will moans and bobs his head faster like that’s exactly what he wanted to hear. He keeps going until his pretty lips hit the circle of his fist, and he swallows around Richie’s cock. Richie yanks at his hair a little harder, pleasure swirling in his veins, and Will pulls off to drop his head back in a moan. His lips are slick and a litany of breathy, desperate moans echoes off the walls.

With Will’s mouth off his dick, even though his hand is still working in lazy strokes, Richie’s gaze is a little less lust-hazy. He blinks and chokes on his next breath: Will’s got his free hand shoved down the front of his own jeans, working rhythmically over his cock. Richie has to count backwards from ten to keep from blowing his load then and there.  
  
“Fuck, this really gets you going, doesn’t it?” Richie asks like it isn’t having the same effect on him. “The thought that at any moment, someone could walk up here,” Will whines, and Richie’s voice drops an octave, “and see you on your knees for me.”  
  
Will bites his lip, and the hand on Richie’s cock stops for a moment as the one in his jeans speeds up. Richie doesn’t mind; it’s worth it to see the look on Will’s face as he jerks himself off to the thought of getting caught.  
  
“It wouldn’t even stop you, would it?” Richie keeps going, spurred on by Will’s desperation. “Your best buddy, Wheeler could walk up those stairs right now and you’d keep going, wouldn’t you?”  
  
Will’s eyes fly open at the mention of Mike’s name and dart to look at the basement door, just behind Richie. Richie briefly worries that he maybe crossed a line, but doesn’t have to wonder for long. Will just whimpers and takes Richie into his mouth again.  
  
“Shit, Will,” Richie breathes, fingers knotting in Will’s hair. Will hums in what sounds like agreement and slides his tongue over the slit of Richie’s cock. He laps at the precome dribbling out, then glides his tongue along the underside of Richie’s dick as he starts to bob his head again, holding Richie’s gaze. Richie’s hips buck forward and Will moans as Richie’s cock sinks deeper into his mouth.  
  
In the back of his mind, the more rational part, Richie can’t help but worry that they’ve been up here for too long. Someone might actually come check on them and, between Richie’s moans and the obscenely slick sounds of his dick in Will’s mouth, it wouldn’t take a genius to know what’s happening. They wouldn’t even have to come into the kitchen; Richie’s pretty sure the people next door can tell what he and Will are up to.  

But as Will’s hips push forward into his own hand, Richie can’t bring himself to give a single fuck.

“Will,” Richie warns. “Will, m’close.” 

Will doesn’t pull off. He sucks harder and moans, loud and uninhibited, around Richie’s cock. He moves faster until he’s barely taking half of Richie’s length into his mouth. With a whine that vibrates Richie down to his toes, Will rocks forward until Richie’s cock is entirely in his mouth. His throat works, swallowing and whimpering until Richie comes with a strangled cry of his name.

Will swallows again around Richie’s dick and switches to a slow, lazy pace to work him through it. He slowly works his way off Richie’s cock as Richie’s hips jerk and stutter while he chases the waves of his orgasm. He’s nearly through it, his dick no longer pulsing in Will’s mouth, when a teasing brush of fingertips over his balls startles him into another gasp.

“Jesus, Will,” he whispers as Will finally pulls back to smile up at him. It’s a soft, easy smile, and Richie raises an eyebrow. “Did you—?”

“Yes,” Will confirms, glancing away with a blush on his cheeks. Richie coughs around the sudden lump in his throat and helps Will to his feet. They both take a moment to tuck themselves back into their jeans, and Will steps up to rebuckle Richie’s belt with another smile. It’s sweet and almost intimate, and Richie wraps a hand around the back of Will’s neck while he’s still close.

Will’s fingers hook in the waistband of Richie’s jeans and they tug one another into a kiss, meeting in the middle. Richie huffs out a laugh, and sort of cringes at the taste of artificial cherry and come on Will’s tongue. Will laughs back and sticks his tongue out briefly, before kissing Richie again. 

They stay like that for a while, making out lazily against the stove in the Denbrough kitchen, before Richie pulls away with a soft sigh.

“We should probably go back down there,” he says, brushing his lips along Will’s cheek. Will frowns and Richie kisses it off his face. “Come on, you can go first and I’ll come down in a minute.”

“Or,” Will says, biting at his lip. “We could go down together?” 

Richie’s eyebrows knit together as he leans back to look down at Will. He knows what Will means by that, knows what this would mean for them. “Are you sure?”

“Richie,” Will says with a small giggle. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have risked getting caught sucking your dick in Bill’s kitchen.” His tone is equal parts dry and sarcastic, with a faint hint of the earlier attitude.

“Yeah, but—”

“I’m sure,” Will cuts him off. Richie can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. Will returns it, slipping his hand into Richie’s. “Together?” He asks again and, this time, Richie can hear the second question lying beneath the first.

It’s the same question Richie’s been kind of, sort of obsessing over for months. The one Richie hasn’t been able to ask, even though he’s wanted to. He looks at the shy curve of Will’s grin, the slightest uncertainty in his eyes, and the flurry of anxiety and wondering and _what are we doing, where do we go from here_ — it all settles in Richie’s chest.

He grins and leans down to kiss Will again. “Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to (please) drop me a comment letting me know what you think! i always want to hear from you!
> 
> come visit me on tumblr— @devilstrip.


End file.
